Call me Taki.
The ship rumbles like a sleeping beast, as the waves keep rocking it left to right. The bunks around me were covered with that faint musty smell as the small drizzle outside pitter-pattered against my cabin’s window with its usual tiny drumrolls.
I stood and crossed the room, balancing my feet against the swaying floor.
When I reached the window, I wipe the cold condensate off with my hand and looked outside.
It’s blue.
Blue seas and skies, with nothing in sight except for the white, fluffy clouds lazily floating above. Nothing is near us, truly, only the vast heavens above and the cold, sandy seabed below.
It should have felt peaceful.
In a way, it did.
Yet, it’s not the same as the green and fertile island we called home.
It is below us, sunken into the coldest depths, now one with the sand it once towered upon. There’s no land we could stand on now, only on this rusting fishing ship that maybe soon sink in the waves.
Ah, where is our next stop?